Ebbtide
by Lindira
Summary: In the days following the defeat of the Reapers, Thane deals with the reality of Shepard's disappearance. Headcanon AR fic. General spoilers for ME3. Companion to "Familiar Shore".


**A/N:** I meant for this to be a drabble, but it totally ran away from me and grew and grew. It was sort of an experiment with style, using a stream-of-consciousness type of narration and a minimum of dialogue. I'm not sure if I like it, but I hope you guys do.

This takes place in my headcanon alternate reality, where Thane survives. EDI survives as well, despite the Destroy option Shepard takes in this one. (EDI had a backup made, and uploaded herself into a new body.) This is a companion piece to "Familiar Shore".

* * *

"Ebbtide"

o.O.o

It is the not knowing that unravels me. The questions that plague my mind at every opportunity: does she yet live? Or has she crossed before me? Where is she, if not here at my side where she should be?

There are thousands dead on Earth from that one day. Thousands dead on the Citadel. Still more injured. It is days before I hear that Kolyat has survived, and it is like those first few breaths after my surgery. I had not realized how much air I had been missing. When it is finally safe to rejoin him, I run to him, clutch at him as if I were the child and he the parent. I weep, knowing how close I came to losing him once more. Only a broken wrist. Not dead, not dead. Kalahira has not taken him.

And still, I don't know what has befallen my siha.

I help with the rescue efforts. To find the living amongst the dead. The medics and volunteers and soldiers do not even attempt to identify the bodies. The chance that some poor living soul needs our help is more important right now. Each step I take is a prayer that Siha is among the injured. Not dead, not dead. My heart would not beat as it does if she were gone. I would know.

And she has always been a survivor.

Each day feels as if weeks have passed. Nights are restless. I find I have no appetite to eat; every morsel that passes my lips tastes of nothing. I force myself to eat for Kolyat's sake. He watches me with the worried stare of someone who has seen me despair before. I promise him that I am stronger now, that I will not lose myself again. I don't know if it is true.

The Earth turns. Hope dwindles.

Liara T'Soni calls. The crew of the Normandy wish to hold a memorial service for Siha and Admiral Anderson. For the first time in years, my temper flares. I shout words I do not mean. I refuse to go. I have nothing but faith, that she might still return to me. I will not attend a funeral without proof that she is gone.

Kolyat goes back to work, while I keep searching. The people I find are almost always amongst the dead now. I wonder how many were alive days ago, waiting to be saved. I fear I may have already failed her.

Another call comes. It is Garrus.

"Thane. They found her."

Time stops. My breath is held in my chest and my heart stills its drumming. "Is she…" I whisper.

"She's alive."

Time begins again, and it is as if it's trying to catch up. Everything is suddenly moving too fast – my breath, my heart, everything. Garrus is speaking, but I barely register the words.

"Thane, hey, listen," he says firmly, catching my attention at last. "She's alive, but she's in bad shape. No one even knows how she got back to Earth from the Citadel, but she's headed back up there now to Huerta Memorial. They don't have the facilities to care for her planetside."

I attempt to gather myself. "I will meet her at the docks."

Garrus nods. "The transport's scheduled to arrive at Docking Bay D24 in an hour. The Normandy's on its way, too. We'll meet you at the hospital."

I arrive at the docking bay forty-five minutes early. I watch passing ships from the viewing deck, not seeing them. I do not think, beyond prayers to the gods. Prayers of gratitude that she still lives. Prayers of supplication that she continues to do so.

When the doors finally open, medics rush out with a gurney. I run to meet them, and gasp when I see her at last. Her body is broken, bloody and burned. The bones of her face are prominent under her skin. I cannot contain the tears that come to my eyes at the state of her. "Siha…" I breathe, unable to say more.

As I run alongside the gurney, the medics attempt to tell me where she was found, but I do not hear them. My gaze is transfixed upon her, upon the face that – despite her injuries – is so beautiful to me still. She appears tired, even with her eyes closed. I feel selfish for hoping she does not rest for much longer.

The medics take her into triage, and I have no choice but to remain behind in the lounge. I wait. I feel I have been waiting a lifetime, one that began when we said our goodbyes over the vidcomm, just before she took to the streets of London. Members of the Normandy's crew arrive. Some of their faces are familiar, some are new. All express their worry for her or their hope for a full recovery. They tell me she is strong. I listen and nod my thanks, but I find all words have left me. Kolyat arrives, somehow knowing what has happened without my telling him. I embrace him, feeling like a child again. I wonder if it is right to depend on him so.

As the hours pass, some of the visitors leave. Soon, only Garrus, Joker, and EDI remain with me and Kolyat. Garrus reads. Joker sits with his arm around EDI, speaking to her in whispers. My son works on a C-Sec report in between furtive glances at me. My eyes rarely leave the emergency room doors.

The doors open. A doctor emerges. I stand to greet him with nervous anticipation. Anxiety fades to numbness as he lists her injuries. Broken legs. Broken ribs. Mild thoracic spinal cord injury. Dehydration. Contusions and lacerations. Coma. The last penetrates the wall of numbness. My heart twists, once, painfully.

"May I see her?" I ask.

The doctor escorts us through the hospital corridors to the familiar rooms of the Intensive Care Unit. I had prayed that I would never have to set foot here again. The gods are selective in their mercy.

The doctor stops in front of one of the doors. The glass is darkened for privacy.

"You go on ahead," Garrus says to me. "We'll give you a minute before we say hello."

I cannot express my gratitude. I have no words or motions beyond an incline of the head to tell him how truly I appreciate a moment alone with my siha. I walk past and enter the room.

The faint whir of machines greets my arrival. My legs are leaden as I approach the bed. Step by step, I feel the wall of numbness crumble.

I have never seen her look so fragile.

Shepard has always seemed to me to be forged from steel. Solid and steadfast, she is the image that comes to mind when I think of strength. Now I fear to touch her, and take her hand in mine with the utmost care. Her skin is wan and covered with bandages. Even her freckles seem pale and sickly. She breathes through a tube connected to her nose.

A confused anger wells inside of me. Not at Siha or at myself, but at this place that turns strong people into shells of themselves. This place that houses bodies that are no longer capable of doing what the soul wills it to do. This place where life hangs in balance, given as much as it is taken away.

I shove the unwanted emotion aside. "Hello, my siha," I say, pressing my lips gently to her forehead, her cheek, her hair. I let my fingers play with a few stray copper locks splayed against her pillow. "I've missed you so."

I sit beside her, her hand still cradled in mine, and pass the next moment in silence, taking some solace in her touch. The others enter then, each taking a turn to say a few awkward words of greeting and encouragement. Joker and EDI leave, only to return minutes later with a flowering plant to brighten the room. Garrus kneels beside Siha while they are gone, whispering something to her in a pleading tone. Kolyat stands over me, his arms crossed. They all linger for a few minutes more, the quiet heavy in the room. Finally, they excuse themselves to leave, telling me to call on them should I need them.

Kolyat is the last to go, watching me with the same worried expression. "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

I nod, feeling a sudden rush of exhaustion come over me. The sleepless nights and the stress of the day have caught up to me.

"Here," he says, pulling something from his coat and tossing it onto the bed in front of me. It is a pouch of bread with seasoned vegetables inside, all sealed in plastic. "Try to eat a little. And get some rest. Let me know if you need anything else. I'll be back tomorrow morning."

I smile, the first time all day. "Thank you, Kolyat. You have been so patient with me."

He gives a shy smile in return. "Good night, Father."

The door shuts behind my son, and I am alone again with Siha. It is strange that she is so still, so quiet. So unlike herself, a woman who moves even in her sleep, such that she crashes into me halfway through the night. I smile again as memories flit across my vision, of being rudely awoken by Shepard's twirling slumber.

I bow my head, kissing her hand and cupping it against my cheek. Her fingertips are cool, but her touch is comforting in its familiarity. I think about what she must have gone through to be in this state now. My heart swells with pride and sadness and love. No doubt she knew she might not survive this. I feel certain that she expected not to. And yet, I am equally certain she did not hesitate to sacrifice herself. As always, she did what must be done to save us all.

"Rest now, beloved," I whisper, resting my head on the bed beside our linked hands. Sleep beckons. Heavy eyelids threaten to close. "Rest now, for your task is done. But when you are ready, return to me. Return to me, for I miss you still."


End file.
